


Damn It Clint (or the one where Clint summons Demon!Tony)

by Jinx_the_Angel_of_Purgatory



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Demon Tony, Elements of 616, Gen, Good Loki, Kinda, Not Canon Compliant, its clints fault, mcu - Freeform, tags are subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx_the_Angel_of_Purgatory/pseuds/Jinx_the_Angel_of_Purgatory
Summary: Like everything, its Clints fault.This time, he  cant even deny it. It really was his fault.-"I feel like there should be creepy forboding music," he said to the empty room."Should I play something?" Someone was behind him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So... This is my first time writing fanfiction. A bit nervous.
> 
> Anywho, what you need to know about this is  
> 1\. Tony is a demon. He was human once, but that was centuries ago  
> 2\. because of the whole "Tony is centuries old" thing, Howard Stark did not help make Cap. The Starks are irrelevant in this story.  
> 3\. Loki is good-ish. Kinda. Hes Loki. Instead of being found by the chitauri, he landed on Earth. No mind control, because i said so  
> 4\. The Avengers consist of Cap, Widow, Hawkeye, Thor, Loki
> 
>  
> 
> This is unbetaed, and is a WIP

Like everything, its Clints fault.

This time, he cant even deny it. It really was his fault.

 

-7am-

The Avengers were off fighting Doctor Doom, and by the explosions, winning. To absolutely nobodys surprise. The European dictator always managed to piss loki off, and when Loki was pissed, things exploded.

Clint had a frontrow seat from the balcony of Avengers tower, sidelined as he was. Apparently, archers are utterly useless when they have a broken wrist.

"Stupid Thor and his stupid poptarts," the archer muttered mutinously, glaring into his coffee.

 

-Four days ago-

"This is stupid."

No response came from Natasha.

"I mean seriously. If his royal highness wants crappy pastries so much, he should buy them himself."

Four boxes of cherry poptarts were added to the half dozen already in the basket. The red haired assassin still remained silent, likely ignoring Clint in his continued ranting. She looked to be debating between blueberry and birthday cake flavored poptarts, before she shrugged and grabbed a couple boxes of both.

They were almost to the checkout of the supermarket when the power went out. Goons in bright yellow hazmat gear had blown a hole through the front wall, completely ignoring the doors barely 10 feet away, and had begun blasting lasers at random. 

All in all, the fight lasted an hour. 8 casualties, most on the side of the idiots in yellow, one broken wrist, and 15 destroyed boxes of poptarts. 

Thor was not happy.

 

-7:23am-

Clint was officially bored. He would have set his facebook status to that, if he had one. Which he didnt, because even when you have to crawl out of the shadows of spyhood and into the light of heroism (ew), social media was still a no-no. So he did what he does best. Snoop.

 

-7:28am-

It was a terrible idea. Abslutely dreadful. Explosions echoed through Manhattan.

 

-7:31am-

Clint dropped though the air vent, landing soundlessly in the dark room. The very dark, very Asguardian room.

The only light source was the dying flickers of green flame in the fireplace. Clint wondered at that, because the tower had no chimneys. Then again, magic.

The spy shuddered, but didn't return to the safety of the ventilation. He lifted his phone, shining the flashlight built in over rows of books, carefully arranged along shelves. What few books that were titled were written in foreign languages, but he spotted a few with Latin on the spines. He couldn't understand them, but at least the language was from Earth.

Grabbing one of them at random, Clint began flipping through the book. The pages felt weird, and there were a lot of crazy drawings that made the archer feel vaguely ill. He settled on a page with a drawing of a circle with triangles and scribbles inside. The page opposite had what looked to be a poem written in crazy, flowy letters. 

The temptation to read the words was a heavy weight in his chest. He mused at the thought of foreboding music playing as the idiot walked into the room with the serial killer. With a shrug, he attempted to read the words out loud.

Looking around, he half expected something to be standing there, watching him. A ghost, or a demon, or (most likely) an Asguardian with a leather fetish. He was utterly disappointed to find nothing. The room was dark, sunlight barely breaking through the thick curtains and- wait, where did the fire go? 

Clint stared at the fireplace. No creepy green flames. 

"I feel like there should be creepy foreboding music," he said to the empty room.

"Should I play something?" Someone was behind him. An unknown... The room faded, and Clint collapsed, unconscious.


	2. Antonio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is your title?" Loki asked, and Steve worried at the expression on the tricksters face. The dark brother looked curious, which never ended well for anybody.
> 
> "Antonio, Crossroads Demon and resident of Hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is short. Again. I'm hoping later chapters will be longer. I might go back and edit later. Hopefully add on.

-9:30am-

The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of the Avengers. Some of them (read: Steve and Widow) were grim faced, mentally tallying costs. The Asguardians were grinning, albiet for different reasons. Thor was always cheerful after a fight, high on whatever the Aesir equivalent to adrenaline is. Loki looked half psychotic, a cheshire grin splitting his thin lips. 

Steve shook his head, running his hand through sweaty blonde locks, causing the previously flattened hair to spike up. The god was always sadistically happy after a fight with Doctor Doom. Something about magic and inferiority. He found it best to ignore the mage when he got in one of his moods.

"Good work out there, team. Maybe a bit much on the light shows," he pointedly avoided looking at the brothers as he walked to the communal kitchen, "but successful nontheless."

If Thor or Loki took offense to the comment, Steve didnt notice. He was busy staring at the person ransacking the massive fridge. Well, person is a relative term, considering the horns and tail.

The guy was around 5'9, brown hair, unknown build. Its hard to tell when the dudes dressed in a suit. From behind, he looked pretty average. If you can ignore the glaring abnormalities.

It didnt take long to snap back into Captain America Mode (as Clint liked to call it). He had his sheild in hand within seconds, and he knew by click of the safety on Natashas gun that the others were on alert as well. Steve did a cursory glance of the room, noting the lack of sarcastic archer. 

"Identify yourself." The captain ordered.

The man (creature? Steve wasnt sure if he was human or not. The guy could be a mutant) stopped rummaging. He turned, carton of blueberries in hand, to stare at the team. Slowly, he raised a berry to his mouth, as if daring them to stop him.

Amber eyes studied them, gleaming with mischief, as he slowly ate his way through a handful of blueberries. Only when the guy descided he felt like it, and when Steve was ready to snap, did he answer.

"My name? Ive many of those. Youd have to be more spesific."

He grinned, wide enough to rival Lokis expression five minutes earlier.

"What is your title?" Loki asked, and Steve worried at the expression on the tricksters face. The dark brother looked curious, which never ended well for anybody.

"Antonio, Crossroads Demon and resident of Hell."

The demon bowed mockingly, before returning to his scavenging. 

Silence settled in the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment


	3. Relevations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki turned an incredulous look on Clint.
> 
> "You bloody imbecile!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of starting a schedule. Tuesdays? It kinda depends how much I manage to write...

-10:03am-

The four present Avengers stood, watching the demon make himself comfortable in their kitchen. None of them were entirely sure what they were dealing with, not even Loki. The creature (Steve had settled on creature, since Demon was not one of the subspecies of Humans. Not that he knew anything about demons, aside from what was taught in church) had managed to eat his way through everything sweet in the kitchen, which was impressive, considering Thor and Clint are addicted to sugar. He'd also drained five pots of coffee and a gallon of orange juice. 

A loud clang marked the arrival of Clint, the archer having arrived through the vents rather than a door like a normal person. The spy had armed himself with a knife that looked suspiciously like one of Widows tactical knives, since bows werent really the type of weapon that could be used one-handed. Steve noticed the nervous glances Clint kept aiming towards Loki, and evidently, so had Loki. 

Loki turned an incredulous look on Clint.

"You bloody imbecile!"

-10:17am- 

After prying a furious trickster god off Clints now bruised body, Steve wrangled the group into the dining area, a space rarely (i.e. never) used by the residents. It had more seating than the living room, and was far closer than any conference room. Steve sat at the head of the table, Widow and Clint taking his right side, Loki and Thor his left (and Clint as far away from the fuming god as possible without getting near the demon, and as close to the door as he could be sitting down), leaving the demon- Antonio at the far end.

Steve had his patented "Why would you do this?" face on (Steve will claim to his dying breath that there is no face. Nobody else is inclined to agree), aimed towards Clint and Antonio, much to the demons confusion.

" Why am I being judged? I feel like im being judged."

"Nobody is judging you, Anton-"

"Tony, please. Nobody calls me Antonio anymore."

"-Tony." Steve finished, the dissaproval in The Look increasing.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Yeah, kinda. Whats up with the beard? And the horns. Demons actually have those?"

"Clint." The Look is turned back on Clint, and the tail idly waving behind Tony twitched in what appeared to be relief.

-10:28am-

After an exhausting (in Clints opinion) explanation of the spys morning thus far, numerous uneasy glances towards Tony the Demon included, Steve sighed. First doombots, now demons. He hadnt even gotten a cup of coffee yet, not that it effected him. 

"How do we send you back?" Steve inquired.

"The one who summoned me has to make a deal. He asks for something, we seal the deal, I get whatever it is he asks for, and then 10 years down the road, i come back for his soul. Or I send hell hounds to fetch it. Depends on my mood."

Everyone turns disbelieving looks on the Demon, exept Loki, who looks disinterestedly at his nails. He doesnt look remotely surprised. Clint looked nausiated, but Natasha schooled her expression into careful blankness. 

My soul? Clint looked at Steve, whose face had turned an alarming shade of red. Its not really Tonys fault. Its his job. Im the idiot who summoned him.

"Had he done the proper ritual, it would have been possible to banish me without making a deal, but he just read the words. No holy water. No candles. No offerings. Most importantly, no binding magics." 

The demon shrugged, feigning nonchalance. The twitching tail gave it away though. Clint was pretty sure Tony was offended, which is not good. For him.

"Is there nothing else we could do?"

Steve had evidently recovered from his momentary lapse into Pissed mode, and was now back to playing diplomat.

"Without one of us dying, no. You're either stuck with me until your friend here croaks, or he deals. Pick your poison."

The Demon grinned, broad and slimey. A businessman who knows hes won. Clint scoffs, snatching the gun from Natashas hand, and aiming it at the smarmy bastard.

"Why dont I put a bullet in you and be done with it."

His team was staring at him, evidently under the impression that he'd gone off the deep end. Though, he told himself, if Nat didnt want me to have the gun, i wouldnt have it. Tony scoffed, evidently unimpressed.

"As if your toy would-"

Clint didn't let him finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments. Writer fuel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warm amber had given way to vibrant, fiery orange, the pupils cat-like slits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Clint...

"As if your toy would-"

Clint didn't let him finish.

The bang of the gun was loud in the relatively small room. Everyone stared at the hole in the Demons forehead. Black fluid- blood, he idly thought- trailed from the wound in two thin streams. Naturally, it was dead center. Well, 'dead' wasn't really the term for it, considering the Demon was very much not dead. 

Shit.

The Demon was pissed. Clint wasnt really sure what happened next. One moment Tony the Demon was glaring at him like he'd ate all his cupcakes, the next he was dangling from the grasp of a monster. 

Warm amber had given way to vibrant, fiery orange, the pupils cat-like slits. The same orange covered his face, and likely his whole body, in some kind of high tech crossword puzzle. The hand around his throat, keeping his feet from touching the floor, was burning hot. The stench of burning flesh assaulted his nose, and he wasnt entirely sure which of them it was coming from. 

"I did try to tell you," the demon growled.

Clint saw stars when he was thrown into a wall. He'd probably have a lump on the back of his head, if the Demon now towering over his slumped form didn't kill him. He was uncomfortably close to the lashing tail, and he noticed for the first time how sharp the barbed tail looked. It bore eerie resemblance to a stingrays tail. The archer cautioned a look upwards, plastering on a weak grin.

"Is it still possible to choose the life route?" 

The demon looked thoroughly unimpressed. Black blood was still dripping from the head wound, bubbling where it remained in contact with the simmering skin for some time.

"Ill think about it."

With that, the Demon vanished in a puff of red smoke, leaving behind the odor of heated iron.

Clint stood, resolutely ignoring the stares of his team mates. He left, taking the elevator to his floor.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Friends, I am not enirely positive I can believe what I saw," Thor spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over the room after the departure of Tony and Clint. Steve nearly startled at the sudden return to awareness. The lost expression on the blonde gods face, as well as the thoughfully blank look both Natasha and Loki bore, had Steve conserned by the knowledge that not even the Asguardians knew what to think of the situation.

"Why do you have a book on summoning demons?" Natasha asked, turning towards Loki. He looked faintly amused at the traces of accusation in her tone. 

"Midguardian literature is amusing. Most of your books on magic are painfully inacurate. What few tomes ive aquired are some of the few that hold true magic. I was studying the so-called 'dark magic' of this realm. The ability to summon and bind magical beings could prove to be useful."

"And you just left something like that lying around?" Steve scolds.

"Whichever book Barton got his hands on wasnt just 'lying around'. He should not have been snooping through my belongings like some dirty thief," the mage scoffs.

"You can hardly talk, brother. The other day-"

"We are not brothers."

"Enough," Steve cuts in before the two of them escalate from bickering to fighting. The gym was still wrecked from the last time their argueing went unchecked. "Loki, go find a way to send Tony back. Natasha, search the tower. See if hes still here. If you find him, keep watching him."

Loki scoffs at the order, but disappears nontheless, hopefully to search for a way to banish the Demon. Natasha nods and walks away, off to do whatever the Widow does when nobody can see her. Thor and Steve return to the kitchen, one to scavenge a post fight snack, the other starting a shopping list. They'll need more food if Tony is sticking around.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-12:03pm-

Manhatten was bustling. People going about their day, rushing to restaurants to eat during their minimal alloted time for the midday meal. Some people using the time to get to meetings, or run errands, or whatever trivial things modern humans do at lunch time.

Tony had a perfect view of the chaos from a small balcony of the tower. He hadnt left hell in what seemed like millenia, but it had evidently only been a century since he'd last visited the living plane. He could still remember the early automobiles. Modern cars, in comparison to buggies of the early 20th century, were sleek and shiny. Most things seemed to be.

Amber eyes gleamed, and the Demon grinned. 

"This'll be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are writer fuel ^.^


End file.
